


Melting Moments

by MayaAodhan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Melting Moments, Supernatural!CoffeeShopAU, stressed out Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-18 06:32:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4695749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaAodhan/pseuds/MayaAodhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The decision to enter the tiny little coffee shop, with its door propped open by a boot, was impulsive. Castiel usually headed for the large multinational coffee shop with its matching chairs, its power ports at every booth, and gallons of milk and coffee bean juice, flavoured by any number of artificial syrups, being passed over the counter at a phenomenal rate of speed.<br/>But the smell here was what had caught him.<br/>The smell of really good coffee.<br/>The smell of baked goods.<br/>The smell of cinnamon.<br/>The smell of chocolate. </p><p>And the sight of Dean Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Coffee. Today I craved good coffee. Not just coffee from the golden arches. 
> 
> Maybe when work is done.
> 
> And maybe drop me a line with feedback if you feel inclined? It's the life's blood for writers!

The decision to enter the tiny little coffee shop, with its door propped open by a boot, was impulsive. Castiel usually headed for the large multinational coffee shop with its matching chairs, its power ports at every booth, and gallons of milk and coffee bean juice, flavoured by any number of artificial syrups, being passed over the counter at a phenomenal rate of speed.  
But the smell here was what had caught him.  
The smell of really good coffee.  
The smell of baked goods.  
The smell of cinnamon.  
The smell of chocolate.

And when an insanely good looking guy in a tight black t-shirt met him half way across the floor crowded with the tiniest tables he had ever seen, and every chair a mismatched stool, he could smell a citrusy aftershave that made his stomach coil into a knot.  
“Hey, staying or going?” The guys voice was warm and welcoming, the smile that made his traitorous stomach do a Crazy Ivan.  
“S-sorry?” Castiel stammered, clutched his messenger back close as a patron bumped into him, then squeezed past the narrow gap he made with another table, an easy apology on his lips.  
“Need a table or a takeaway cup?” The guy explained. “See you later, Ms Edith!” He lifted a hand and waved over Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel turned his head and watched an old lady give a gummy smile and a wave in return.  
“Tomorrow, Dean,” she said in a voice cracked with age and a twinkle in her eye.  
“Looking forward to it.” And he turned his bright green-eyed attention back to Castiel. “I have a couple tables further at the back if you want to stay. You have just missed the rush.”  
_Dean. His name was Dean. And this was missing the rush?_  
The place was packed. Everyone was crowded on one another and the hiss of the coffee machine was nonstop. Castiel had been planning on grabbing and going, but…he checked his watch…he had a little time.  
“Staying,” he said finally.  
“Follow me.” Dean crooked his finger, and lead Castiel past the counter and into a back room section. There were two couples here, leaning toward each other and murmuring in quiet conversation. A guy read a book in a corner, a large latte in a glass with a bright purple rubber sleeve in front of him.  
The table was tiny, with a holder stuffed with sugar packets. A large mug with ‘Keep Calm and Drink Coffee’ in white on a blaring red background sat on the table. Dean picked it up and gestured at the restored ladderback chair with the bright orange cushion.  
“What can I get you?” Dean asked when Castiel had seated himself, and waved at the chalkboard. The options were simple. Long black. Short black. Espresso. Flat white. Latte. Cappuccino. Mocha. No fancy creamers. No flavours. It astounded him.  
“I guess a flat white, please.”  
“Mug or cup?”  
“I…uhh…” Castiel stared at the mug in Dean’s hand. “Mug?”  
Dean grinned. “Anything to eat with that?”  
He mutely shook his head.  
“Be right back with your order.” Dean winked.  
Castiel stared around the room for a moment. Artwork crowded the walls, all different styles but intense in colour on the dark sapphire blue walls that seemed to sparkle a little from the sun streaming in the open back window. Plants crowded a window box. In the corner were toys, jumbled into a wooden box.  
An open door beckoned to a back courtyard.  
This place was astounding. It was like the owner had just opened his home to the general public and said ‘Here, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?’ It made Castiel a little nervous. He was used to the polite, professional staff of the coffee house he normally went to. He was used to the austere décor. He was used to the hard chairs that didn’t encourage people to linger too long. Not that he ever lingered. He always got his grande non-fat latte with a dash of caramel and left.  
It was the smell of this place that had done it, had overcome his anxiety.  
“Here you go.” Dean returned after a few minutes and put a large blue mug down in front of him. The front was a blue police phone box. He didn’t understand the reference.  
“Thank you.”  
“And…” With a flourish, Dean set down a small dish with two cookies on it. They were creamy yellow, and by their slightly irregular size, they were clearly homemade. “Melting Moments. New customer. On the house.”  
“Oh.” Castiel stared at the inoffensive, but admittedly delicious looking biscuit. Then he looked up at Dean with a confused look on his face. “You are kind. Thank you.”  
“No worries.” Dean winked at him. “You looked like you needed something like that.”  
“I rarely eat desserts,” Castiel said seriously, studying Dean’s expression, trying to get a gauge on the man who was being so friendly to a complete stranger. In his experience, people were only friendly when they wanted something.  
“Oh, sorry, man. Are you gluten free or something? I didn’t think to ask.” Dean scrubbed his hand over his head, disappointment clouding his expression.  
“No.” Castiel shook his head. “That’s not it. I just…don’t.”  
“Okay. Hey. It’s alright.” The smile was back and Dean reached down for the plate.  
Castiel jerked his hand up and touched Dean’s wrist. Dean stilled, his expression again registering his confusion. Castiel drew back as though shocked. He never touched people if he didn’t have to.  
“Sorry!” Castiel muttered. “Sorry. No. It’s fine. They look…they look good. I would like to try them.”  
“Sure.” Dean straightened. “Absolutely. I will leave you to it.”  
Castiel took a deep, calming breath. His anxiety was tripping up ten notches and making him feel like a crazy person. _It was coffee, Novak! You picked this place! Calm the fuck down!_  
He reached for his mug and wrapped his fingers around the warm ceramic and drew it toward his lips. He sniffed. The aroma was smooth, heady. He took a sip and his eyes opened wide. The taste exploded on his tongue. He took another sip in case the first one was a mistake. No. No, it wasn’t. This was the best damn coffee he had ever tasted.  
Experimentally he picked up one of the cookies. The …what had Dean called it? Melting Moment? He broke off a chunk and popped it into his mouth. It…melted. The flavour was buttery and lemony and completely sinful. He sipped his coffee. He ate another bite, this one larger.  
When his phone pinged with a message, he sighed and pulled the device out of his pocket and studied the display.  
_WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?_  
_Getting coffee._ He replied.  
_Where? Australia?_  
_Funny. I will be there in fifteen minutes._  
_Make it ten._  
Castiel rubbed his brow. He could feel the headache that usually plagued him when work was mentioned.  
_Fifteen_. He typed in reply.  
Being the boss had to have some benefits. If he wanted another five minutes, he could take them. Doubt coiled in his chest though and he pressed his fingertips into his temple.  
“Everything okay?” The warm voice interrupted his warring desire to just stay, finish his damn coffee, rather than go into his office just because Gabriel was having a panic attack.  
Castiel blinked myopically, and glanced up. “Hi. Yes. The coffee is incredible. Never tasted anything like it.”  
“We roast our own beans. They are sourced from a local company.” Dean leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s a bit of an indulgence, but it makes all the difference. And I think the smell is heavenly. Angels singing and all that.”  
Castiel’s lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “Whatever it is, it's really working for the owner.”  
The corners of Dean’s eyes crinkled with his genuine smile. “Consider the compliment passed.”  
“I have to get going though.” Castiel stood reluctantly. “Thank you for the coffee and cookies. How much do I owe you?”  
Dean peered at the contents of his coffee mug. It was still half filled.  
“Make it a fiver. And here…” He held out the mug. “Take it with you. Return it next time.”  
“I can’t take your cup,” Castiel protested, even as he pulled out his wallet.  
“I have a feeling you will be back,” Dean nodded confidently.  
Castiel took the mug, handing Dean the money. “Are you certain the owner is alright with you doing this?”  
“He’s easy going like that.” Dean shoved the money into his pocket. “My name’s Dean, by the way.”  
“Castiel.” He gestured vaguely. “Is me.”  
“See you next time, Castiel.”  
Castiel nodded and headed back through the shop. Out in the street he stared back at the unassuming frontage, the window with its ‘Coffee or Die’ signage. He hadn’t even seen that the first time. Now he wanted to remember it. He stared down at the mug still clutched in his hands. Oh yes. He would be back. Not just for the coffee, but for the friendly waiter as well. His smile…. Castiel shook his head, and as his phone rang, he reached for it, thoughts of smiles driven out of his head as work intruded.

Dean handed an order over to Charlie, his barista. She gave him a crooked smile.  
“Who was the cutie patootie?” She asked.  
“Castiel.” Dean didn’t even try to deflect, as they both watched said cutie patootie fumble for his phone, and take a sip of his coffee.  
“That’s it? That’s all you got out of him?” Charlie seemed disappointed.  
“He seemed a bit … wired. Twitchy.” Dean shrugged. “But I think he will be back. I liked his smile.”  
“Hence the melting moments…” Charlie nodded her understanding, then nudged his ribs. “He had pretty blue eyes.”  
Dean ruffled her cropped red hair and drew her in for a smacking kiss on her temple. “That he did, queen of my heart, that he did.”


	2. Chapter 2

When Castiel entered the shop in the early evening to return the mug, he paused on the doorstep. The music had beckoned him, spilling out onto the street, a classic song from Queen that even he recognised beating its familiar refrain over the empty tables. Was the shop closed? He checked his watch. Six pm. He had half an hour before he had to head back into work. He just needed to take a break. He deserved a break.

A red head was grooving behind the counter, popping a little bump and grind into her cleaning regime. The door to the kitchen swung open, and Dean hitched stepped out, a large tray of cups balanced in one hand. He grabbed the red head by the other and twirled her around. She laughed delightedly.

Castiel clenched the blue mug in his hand. It was a scene of such joy he didn’t want to intrude. He took a step back.

“Oh! Hey cutie!” The red head called out across the shop and reached over to tap Dean on the shoulder as he slid the multihued mugs onto their shelf. “You have a visitor.”

Dean turned and he grinned. “Heya, Cas. Come on in.”

“Are you…closed?” Castiel peered around the empty shop.

“Yeah. Five o’clock, but we like leaving the door open, airs the place out.”

“I’m sorry, I shall return tomorrow.”

“Don’t be silly,” Charlie scoffed. “You are here now, and you brought back our mug.” She beamed at him brightly.

“Yes.” He stepped into the shop then and approached Dean. He held out the mug.

“I wished to return this before I had to go back into work.”

 

Dean took the mug, peered at the pale, drawn features of the man in front of him. “You have to go back to work? Haven’t you just been?”

He watched Castiel pass a hand over his eyes and down his face. The dark circles were no less pronounced for the gesture.

“My day usually ends around nine or ten.”

Dean blinked. “Seriously?” He shared a glance with Charlie. “That’s… a long day.”

“Your boss must be a slavedriver,” Charlie looked at him pityingly as she started up the machine she had just shut down. It hummed and gurgled happily.

“He is.” Castiel smiled ruefully.

“Well tomorrow is Sunday, Cas.” Dean nodded. “And you can have a day off.”

Castiel made a hollow sound. “I don’t have Sundays off.”

Charlie whistled low. She poured milk into her smaller milk jug, and stuck it under the wand. A low hiss escaped the machine.

“Do you have any days off?” Dean asked, setting the Doctor Who mug down and folding his arms across his chest disapprovingly.

“Rarely.”

“That’s wrong,” Charlie shook her head. “That’s just wrong.”

“Novak Industries is a big company.” Castiel shrugged. “It takes a lot of work to run. As its CEO I rarely get time off.”

That stunned both of them into silence.

“You…are…” Dean lowered his arms and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well.”

Castiel bit his lowered lip sharply. “Anyway. Thank you. It is rare to meet someone like you, Dean. I need to go. “

Charlie capped the large coffee takeaway cup she had just finished and pushed it across the counter to Dean. She cleared her throat when she realised Dean was staring after a retreating Castiel. Dean blinked, looked at her, looked down at the coffee. He grabbed it.

“Hey, Cas. Wait up.” Dean bounded across the shop, catching Castiel at the front door. He held out the cup. “Here. You need this.”  
Castiel stared at Dean, then down at the cup and back up again. “I didn’t order-”

“On the house.” Dean shrugged, and smiled at the weary looking man. “If you can’t get a day off, I think you deserve decent coffee.”

Castiel was silent for a long time, then he reached up, his fingers brushing Dean’s.

“Thank you.” His low voice was suddenly hoarse.

“Don’t stay up to late.”

“I have to.” Castiel met Dean’s gaze steadily. “But this will help.”

 

Dean watched Castiel head off and stepping back into the shop, he closed and locked the door. Charlie was closing down and cleaning her baby a second time.

“Castiel Novak, huh.” She pursed her lips. “That family has more money than God.”

Dean squinted thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment. “He’s also one of the most burnt out, sad looking guys I have ever seen. Wonder how long he’s been doing the twenty four seven shifts.”

“Looks like forever,” Charlie said sympathetically.

“Yeah.”

Charlie came around the counter and rested her chin lightly against the side of his shoulder. “You look like you have seen a puppy you want to rescue.”

Dean grunted a laugh and nudged her ribs. “Castiel Novak doesn’t need rescuing Charlie.”

“Sure he does.” She grinned up at him. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean was as surprised as Charlie to see a wan looking Castiel pause outside, study the crammed interior and hesitate. Dean pushed his way through the familiar, chattering crush of his shop and headed for the door.

“Hey.” He smiled warmly at Castiel.

“Hello, Dean. Busy this morning.”

“This is usual.” Dean shrugged. “You need a cup of the good stuff?”

“I would like to, but I’m in a rush.” Castiel glanced at his watch. He winced. “I’m already late.”

Dean looked at his own watch. Seven am. “How are you late at seven in the morning? What time did you work ‘til last night?”

“Midnight.” Castiel cracked a yawn at the thought and tiredly rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I have a meeting at seven thirty.”

“Wait here.” Dean held up a finger. “Don’t move.”

He disappeared into the maelstrom of motion inside.

 

Castiel hesitated. He couldn’t afford to wait. But he didn’t want to leave. Those warm green eyes made his cold morning a little better. So he waited.

His phone rang.

“Gabe.”

_“How far away are you?”_

“Down the block. I will be there in ten minutes.” Maybe. He glanced at the coffee shop. Still no sign of Dean.

_“They arrived early. Half an hour early. Balthazar has put them in the conference room. We are just waiting on you.”_

“And the meeting was set for seven thirty. A meeting I spent until midnight preparing for. They are trying to play a game. Put us off. Give them coffee. Give them champagne and tell them I’m on a call and will be with them at my assigned meeting time. Not twenty minutes early.” Castiel’s voice dropped low and gravelled.

_“Castiel…”_

“Do it, Gabe. Now.”

The dial tone sounded. Castiel glanced up to the sight of Dean holding a large takeaway cup and a paper bag. Mutely, he held out the two toward Castiel, a look of wariness on his face. Castiel sighed inwardly.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Five.”

Castiel tugged out his wallet, and fumbling through the notes found a ten. He thrust it out. “Here. No change.” He took the coffee and whatever Dean had given him in the bag. The bag went into his pocket.

Dean silently took it, and shoved it into his apron pocket.

“Good luck with the meeting.”

Castiel just nodded, and gestured with the coffee. “This will help. Thankyou.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “My pleasure.”

“Dean!” Charlie’s call was loud. “Order up!”

Dean reached out, clapped Castiel on the shoulder and headed back in.

Castiel walked dazedly onward.

 

Dean was not waiting for Castiel the next morning. He was NOT.

A glance up at the street every once in a while was not…waiting.

The guy was big time important. He had what seemed to be a spare hour in the day. Fifteen minutes of which he ordered and clutched at Dean’s coffee like it was a lifeline.

But it was raining, and the coffee shop was quieter than usual as people avoided the sidewalks for drier transportation options. Just his regulars this morning. Chances are, Castiel was one of those. Trading a walk for a smooth, quiet car ride.

He was cleaning off a table as the tiny bell over the closed door rang. He glanced up and he couldn’t stop a wide beaming smile.

He ignored Charlie’s chuckle behind him.

“Table?” He asked, studying Castiel’s expression.

“Please.”

The gravelled rumble did things to him. He wanted to make Castiel talk more.

“How did the meeting go?”

Castiel scrubbed his hand over his head. “It was alright. Went as expected.”

“Did you get what you wanted?”

“I usually do,” came the flat reply. It wasn’t said joyfully. There was only a resignation to it.

Dean lead Castiel to a low table set before an ancient buttersoft leather armchair. Castiel lowered himself down and an odd expression crossed his tense features.

“This okay?” Dean asked, concerned. “You okay?”

“Sure. Yeah.” Castiel nodded.  
“What can I get you?”

“Flat white. And one of those Melting Moments if you have them?” Castiel looked up at him hopefully.

“I can probably scrounge up a couple.” Dean winked as he headed away.

 

When he returned several minutes later with the order, coffee in a large mug with Darth Vader on it, a plate with three Melting Moments, he paused. And smiled. Castiel was asleep in the chair. Not just ‘taking a moment to close his eyes’. Fast asleep. His hands lay boneless in his lap. His head was tilted awkwardly to one side, and he had slid down a little on the cushion. Dean quietly set down the coffee and resolved not to put any more customers out here for ten more minutes.

 

Dean checked his watch as he finished at the till with a couple of departing customers who were effusive about his coffee. He grinned and accepted the compliments, hoping they spread the word and came back soon. It had been fifteen minutes. He should go wake Cas if he weren’t already.

Castiel was in the same position he had left him in, though soft snores punctuated his breathing.

Carefully, in case he startled him, Dean crouched down and touched Castiel gently on the arm. “Cas? Hey. Wake up, buddy.”

Castiel didn’t snort awake, he didn’t startle at all. His eyes opened slowly, the bright blue unfocused and exhausted.

“Fell asleep,” he murmured.

“Yeah, you did,” Dean agreed easily.

“I want…” His eyes drifted closed again.

“Hey. Cas? What do you want?” Dean patted his arm again, uncertainly warring with concern.

“Call … in… sick.” Castiel didn’t even open his eyes again before he fell back to sleep.

Dean straightened, and studied the relaxed features: the dark bruising of bone deep tiredness under his eyes, the hollows in his cheekbones as though he didn’t eat quite enough, the hair tumbled over his forehead in a messy tangle. His heart did a hard thump.

He pulled a crocheted blanket his mom had given him from the cupboard beside the door. It smelled a little dusty, but he shook it out. Carefully, he laid it over the sleeping man and headed back for the door. He closed it off from the noise of the café.

“Where’s Castiel?” Charlie slid two capped takeaways across to the customers waiting and gave them a broad smile.

“Asleep.” Dean pulled out his phone.

“What?” Charlie was surprised.

“He just fell asleep within minutes of sitting down.”

“You put him in the chair, didn’t you?” Charlie accused.

“Maybe.”

“Dirty move, Winchester. That chair has consumed many a victim!”

“Hey, he looked like he needed the rest.”

“Clearly. What’re you doing?” Charlie took advantage of the lull to stack of a load of used mugs in a tray for the kitchen.

“Calling his work.”

Charlie grinned. She sidled up to him and rested her chin on his shoulder in that familiar affectionate gesture. “Softie.”

“Shut up.” Dean nudged her away. He found the number via Google and dialled.

_“Good morning. Novak Industries. How may I direct your call?”_

“Hi. Uh. I’m Dean Winchester. Calling on behalf of Castiel Novak, he’s sick and-“

_“One moment while I put you through.”_

The line picked up with some soothing music that did little to settle his sudden bout of nerves.

 _“Gabriel Novak speaking.”_ The voice was sharp. _“Who is this?”_

“My name is Dean Winchester. I own the ‘Coffee or Die’ cafe about a block from your building. Cas came in this morning and he’s currently passed out asleep in your back room. He was going to call in sick.

There was a long silence.

“Hello?” Dean queried.

“ _Castiel is at your place of business. And he is asleep?_ ” Gabriel’s voice was wary. _“Do you have proof of that?”_

Dean blinked. “Uhh. I … yes. One moment.” He headed to the back room. Took a surreptitious photo and closed the door quietly. “I just took a photo. Got a phone number or email I can send it to?” He found this somewhat amusing.

Charlie had returned from the kitchen and was watching him curiously.

Gabriel gave him an email address.

“One moment.” Dean sent the photo and waited.

Gabriel’s voice came back on the line. _“He..uhh…looks fine.”_ He cleared his through. _“Look, I worry about him. I don’t like that he walks to work when he should take a car. But he insists he is fine._ ” Gabriel sounded exasperated.

“I guess getting to work that way is faster. So he spends more time at work,” Dean said flatly.

_“Work is his life, Mister Winchester.”_

“Work has become his life, Mister Novak. And if you were paying attention, that work seems to be hurting your brother pretty badly.”

There was a dangerous silence.

_“It’s none of your business, Winchester. I will see that his appointments this morning are pushed back an hour. See he is woken up by then.”_

“I’m not your brother’s babysitter, Novak. He will wake up when he wakes up.”

_“Do you have any idea the importance of that man currently snoring in your little dump of a café?”_

“I’m starting to see it. Do you?” Dean hung up on the shout that nearly deafened him. He tossed his phone on the counter with a scowl. "And my café isn't a dump. Asshole."

“Awful protective there,” Charlie said softly.

“Sounds like no one else is.”

“Careful though, Dean. Messing with folks like that…well, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Dean gave her that familiar hair ruffle and kiss to the temple. “I’m a big boy.”

“Mrmmm.” She grumbled.

 

When Castiel awoke, he found he was tucked beneath a blanket that was made up of patches of multihued wool. The rain was falling steadily outside, tapping against the closed window pane. He was confused. Where the hell was he?

He straightened slowly. The chair was comfortable, but he wasn’t a teenager anymore. His back ached from being curled up on the soft leather. He stretched. The coffee shop, he realised.

There was a cold cup of coffee on the table in front of him. He checked his watch, blinking to clear his slightly fuzzy vision. He had slept three hours. Three hours! God, Gabe must be panicking!

And what must Dean be thinking of him?

Castiel struggled to his feet and hitched his bag over his shoulder. He yanked his phone from the bag and winced when he saw the number of messages and missed calls. He had forgotten to take his phone off silent.

Running a hand through the rats nest of his hair he tried to gather his scattered centre again. The door to the main café was closed and he opened it, hoping that he wouldn’t now embarrass himself.

There was no one in the café and Dean sat with a pile of papers in front of him, taking advantage of the wan light through the windows to do his work. At the sound of the door, he glanced up. With a smile, he put down his pen.

“Hi.”

Castiel blushed furiously. “Hello. You let me sleep.”

“You looked like you needed it.”

“That chair was comfortable.”

Dean nodded. “It is.”

“I should … go. The office must be worried.”

“I rang them earlier. Told them you were calling in sick.”

Castiel shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“Did you sleep last night?” Dean asked.

“A little.” Castiel gave a helpless shrug.

“Do you even like your job, Cas?”

“Right now? Not much. Used to. We did important stuff. I was good at it. We helped failing companies, rebuilt them from the ground up, turned a profit. But it’s different now.” Castiel scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it perch in rampant spikes over his scalp.

“What would you change if you could?” Dean asked gently, leaning back against one of the more solid of his tables, propping his palms either side of his hips.

“I can’t change anything. I’m the CEO but I’m responsible to the shareholders. They back us on the proviso that we continue to turn a profit.”

“If you could. Dream a little. What would you do?”

Castiel laughed hollowly. “Keep bees. Paint. Go on a holiday to the beach. Sleep in.”

“That’s a nice dream.”

“Yes. A dream.” Castiel nodded slowly as the weight of the world settled back on his shoulders. “I need to go. Thank you, Dean. Really. You have no idea what your kindness has meant.”

“Any time, Cas. I mean it.”

Castiel headed for the door. With his hand resting on the handle, he turned, looked as though he wanted to say something… instead, he gave a deprecating smile and headed out.

Dean hesitated, then followed.

“Hey, Cas?” He called after him.

“Yes?” Castiel turned.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime? On a date?”

The expression on Castiel’s face ran the gamut from surprised to incredibly pleased, his smile was sunshine. “Yes, Dean. Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Awesome.” Dean stuck his thumb over his shoulder. “I had better get stuff done. See you in the morning?”

“Yes.” Castiel nodded. “But not that chair please.”

“Deal.”

Deal whistled cheerily as he got back to work. He had a date with the delectable Castiel Novak!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all those blush inducing comments! You guys are awesome.

Dean tugged on the collar of his dark green shirt. Charlie said it made his eyes ‘pop’, whatever the hell that meant. He shrugged into his weatherbeaten black leather jacket and checked his watch for the tenth time. He headed downstairs after a few minutes, and moved through the shop. Living above his work made life a lot easier.

Charlie was finishing up and waiting for him. She gave a low whistle.

“Well hey there, handsome.” She whirled her finger indicating he should turn.

He obliged. “Good?”

“You will knock his cashmere socks off.”

Dean hesitated. “He said ‘dinner’. That won’t be at one of his fancy restaurants will it?”

“If it is, so what?” Charlie shrugged. “He wants to spend time with you. And it’s not like you will eat with your fingers, Dean. You know how a fork works…” She paused, eyes widening with mock horror. “Right?”

“Shut up, wench.”

“What time is he picking you up?”

“Ten minutes.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

Charlie came around the counter, wiped her hands on her apron. She put her palms on either side of his face and her voice went gentle. “Stop worrying. I can see you worrying.” She tapped the line that formed between his brows. “Don’t think of him like… Castiel Novak, CEO of a major multinational company with daily multimillion dollar turnovers.”

Dean groaned. He closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. “Not helping, Charlie.”

“Think of him as the guy who works so hard that he is almost a shell of himself, and who loves your coffee and felt safe enough to fall asleep here. You made him feel safe.” Charlie smiled up at him. “I don’t say this often, you darling, foolish man, but you are good…” She adjusted his collar. “...Sweet. Warm… and my best friend in the whole world.” She patted his cheek. “And Castiel sees that. You need to see him. Who he is. Not who he presents to the world.”

Dean wrapped Charlie in a warm hug. He rested his chin on her head. “Got classes tomorrow still?”

“Yep.” Charlie’s voice was muffled against his jacket. “But you had better call me later.”

“Done.”

 

Dean locked the front door and turned just as a large black towncar drew up. A lanky guy in a suit got out and opened up the back door. His impassive eyes studied Dean’s approach. Dean leaned down and peered at Castiel on the far side.

“Uhh, this isn’t what I expected,” he said as he slid into the seat.

Castiel tossed his phone into the bag crumpled at his feet. “I’m sorry. I hate driving in this city.”

Dean huffed a soft laugh, and relaxed back.

“What?” Castiel turned that bright blue gaze on him.

“Nothin’, Cas. Where are we going?”

“Anthropologie.”

“Where now?”

“Food, Dean. We eat it. We get to know each other. We drink wine...or beer...or whatever.”

“Sass. I like it.” Dean couldn’t prevent the flirtatious smirk that curled his lip.

Castiel flushed, and Dean found he looked good in pink. He resolved to make the guy blush as often as possible.

“I made our reservation for eight o’clock. At short notice it was the best I could do-”

“Cas?” Dean interrupted him. “Chill.” He smiled and held out his hand toward Castiel, whose hands were linked tightly in his lap. “We could go for pizza and I would be happy.”

Castiel hesitated a moment, before unlinking his fingers from each other and placing his right hand in Dean’s. His hands were cold. His hands were always cold. Dean’s were warm.

“Perhaps the chef will make you pizza if you asked for it.”

Dean chuckled as he drew Castiel’s hand toward him and rested their enfolded fingers on his lap. “I think I can stand to increase my range.”

 

Castiel was a goner.

Dean was charming, warm and talkative. He spoke with their waiter asking questions with an ease that Castiel envied.  Castiel had grown up in this life, expensive restaurants, wine that cost three hundred dollars a bottle and town cars that delivered you all over the city. Dean just charmed his way through.

His green eyes sparkled with laughter as the waiter left with their order tucked under his arm and the menus held stiffly in hand. Castiel bit his lower lip to prevent a wide grin from breaking the reserve he usually preferred to present to the world.

“I liked when he stumbled over the pronunciation of some of those French phrases. Poor guy.” Dean shook his head.

Castiel frowned. “Were you messing with him?”

“He sniffed with disapproval when he took my jacket.” Dean grinned wickedly. “That boy wouldn’t understand French if a book of phrases jumped up and hit him in the face.”

“But you understood very well?”

“Yep.” Dean leaned back in his chair. “Before I owned the shop, I was a chef.”

Castiel blinked and tilted his head. “You …what? Why did you stop?”

Dean hummed softly. “Well, a few reasons, really. I was tired of the life. Long, long hours. The pay was great, but I never got to see my family.”

“Your family?”

“Yeah. My brother Sammy. Charlie. Mom when she was still alive.”

Castiel mentally picked through the list and picked the one name he knew. “Charlie is family?”

Dean beamed. “Yeah. She decided she was my best friend when we were eight. And for the last thirty years, I have told her I have gone along with it. Reality though – she really is my best friend. We got each other through school, failed love affairs, family loss…all of it. She works in the shop while she goes to school part time.”

“Back to school?” Castiel rose a brow.

“Yeah, she got in a little bit of trouble a while back.” Dean grimaced at the memory. “With uhhh, her unique computer skills. She has sworn to go straight, and is doing a course to supplement her masters in computer engineering, so she can teach.”

“Not just a barista then?”

Dean shook his head. “Not just a barista. I will miss her like hell when she graduates and gets a real job.”

“So you are supporting her financially through all this?”

Dean took a moment, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“That is kind of you.”

“It’s what you do for family.”

Castiel lapsed into silence while the waiter returned with his wine choice. He studied Dean and those brilliant green eyes. He was definitely a goner.

 

“You live above the shop?” Castiel asked in surprise.

“Yeah. Sammy lives in the house in the suburbs. The commute was a nightmare for me, so I cleaned up the place, renovated it, and moved in. I head back home once in a while, but I spend most of my time here.” He gestured to the apartment above his little café. “I like it. It’s cosy.”

“When I first came to the café, I had the gut feeling that it was like the owner had opened his house up to guests.” Castiel tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants, his suit jacket rucking back to reveal the teal blue shirt that stretched across his chest. “I didn’t know you were the owner at the time.”

“So you think I’m a decent catch now you know I’m a business owner?” Dean nudged his shoulder teasingly.

Castiel nodded seriously. “Indeed. I’m always on the lookout for a sugar daddy.”

Dean laughed loudly, his eyes crinkling appealingly.

Castiel gave a small smile, and tucked his chin down a little, as though embarrassed that his comments, delivered with such wry seriousness, were considered funny. He glanced at the time and sighed regretfully.

“I need to get home. I have some work I have to get done before tomorrow.”

“No worries. I really enjoyed your company,” Dean said easily. “Will you be by for coffee in the morning.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Castiel smiled brightly.

“I would really like to kiss you right now,” Dean said in that same matter-of-fact tone. “And I’m hoping you are okay with that.”

 

“I think that would be acceptable.” Castiel nodded, sudden heat coiling in his gut.

Dean stepped into his space, eyes suddenly intense. A shiver thrilled down his spine.

When those surprisingly soft, rather commanding lips brushed against his own, he wasn’t expecting the spark to ignite in his brain that said, _Oh yes. This is precisely right. This is what you have been waiting for._

Castiel reached up, curved his fists into the soft leather of Dean’s jacket and leaned in. Dean’s hands, he realised faintly, were currently sliding down his back, pressing him closer.

_Dear god, he didn’t want this to stop._

But it had to.

Eventually.

His brain was scrambled when the kiss broke, but neither man stepped away from each other. Castiel found his hands were splayed over Dean’s back, underneath his jacket.

Dean grinned at him, his lips a whisper away. “Your hands are freezing.”

“Sorry.” Castiel felt icy reality intrude, and shifted awkwardly. He pulled back a little, closing his hands into fists.

Dean’s arms tightened. “Since the rest of you is smoking hot, its all good. As it is, I’m gonna need a cold shower.” He nipped at Castiel’s lower lip. “I like it.”

At that, Castiel gave a reluctant smile. “Very well.”

“See you in the morning?”

“Definitely.”

Dean waited until the car took off before heading back inside. He tugged out his phone.

“Charlie, it went really, really well.” He couldn’t keep the happiness from his voice, and he didn’t want to. “…Once. No, twice, but it was like a continuation of the first one. …It was perfect.” He unlocked the door to the stairs up. “Yeah. Tomorrow morning… Shut up….Yeah, yeah. Love you too. Sleep well.”


	5. Chapter 5

The following morning, the café was jumping again. Dean was flat out, taking over the coffee machine while Charlie took a turn on the floor taking orders. His face was flushed with steam, his mind whirring as he coordinated the backlog of six orders.

“Two more long blacks, a flat white and your boyfriend just walked in.”

Dean jerked his head up, and sure enough, Castiel was just coming in through the door, a harried expression on his face, a tan trenchcoat flapping open against the cool morning air and his hair in an attractive disarray. Dean couldn’t keep the smile from his lips as Castiel joined the back of the takeaway line, eyes meeting Dean’s once then turning to a large mobile phone that he was rapidly typing on.

Dean applied himself to the coffee machine with diligence and carved through the takeaway orders as quickly as he could. Four, three, two, one. And there was Castiel, studying him shyly with those incredible blue eyes.

“Hey,” Dean said softly.

“Hello, Dean.”

“What can I get ya? The usual?”

Castiel nodded, and ignored the phone currently buzzing in his hand. Dean couldn’t help but notice and was pleased.

“I had a great time last night,” Dean continued, focused on steaming the milk to the perfect temperature. “I hope we can do something else soon.”

“I would like that also. I will check when I next have a free evening, and perhaps let you know?”

“Sure.” Dean poured the milk into the fragrant shot of coffee on the bottom of the takeaway cup. He capped it and passed it across with a grin. He crooked his finger, beckoning Castiel a little closer, leaning across the counter as though he wanted to have a quiet whispered conversation.

Castiel frowned in confusion, leaning forward.

Dean grabbed the lapel of his trenchcoat, yanked him in and kissed him fiercely before he had a chance to respond.

A few hoots and hollers and a resounding applause had them breaking apart, Dean with a wicked grin, Castiel with a bright blush.

“Much better,” Dean nodded seriously. “Much much better.”

Castiel cleared his throat, gathered his wits and his coffee and mumbled a goodbye, scrambling for the door. There he glanced back at Dean, gave a faint smile and headed to work.

Dean swiped both his palms down his front and blew out a breath. Charlie slapped down a few orders with a twinkle in her eye.

“Hot.” Was her only comment as she tipped him a wink.

“Isn’t he?” Dean returned to work.

 

They next got time alone together the following week. Castiel carved out some time one evening and Dean cleared his schedule to spend time with the guy who had captured his attention and maybe just a little of his heart.

This time it was Dean’s turn to suggest something, and he said he wanted to cook for Castiel. He was met with protests, that Dean could hardly feel like that after a day of work, but Dean shrugged it aside and insisted that he wanted to cook.

Castiel acquiesced with just a little relief.

So Dean found himself upstairs, prepping the meal he would serve. Wafer thin slivers of marinated beef over crisp salad for entrée. While he was making up the dressing, his phone buzzed. He checked it and smiled at the message that Cas was just leaving the office and was on his way.

In twenty minutes, while he was setting out wine glasses on his little kitchen table, his phone buzzed again. Clattering downstairs, he saw Castiel shivering outside as a towncar drew away from the kerb.

Dean hurriedly undid the locks and drew Castiel inside.

“I didn’t realise the temperature had dropped so rapidly.” Dean closed and locked the door behind him. “My apartment is so cosy, I didn’t even notice the wind had picked up.”

“Sounds really good about now.”

“Feeling the cold, huh?”

“Always do.”

Dean caught Castiel’s hand in his. “Come on upstairs. We will get you warm.”

Castiel’s cold fingers in his warm paw, Dean drew Castiel through the shop and to the doorway that led upstairs. The narrow staircase with its old, uneven wooden steps that led into the tiny rooms that made up his apartment.

 

Castiel stared around the rooms that made up Dean’s home with wonderment. Everything was cosy and relaxed here. The furniture was battered, with photographs of people whose identities he suddenly longed to know. Even in the stills, he could see the clear love between the subjects of each.

Dean didn’t let go of his hand until he was in the kitchen. The scents, the warmth from the oven, the mosaic tiles that brightly coloured everything, it was all overwhelming. Like Dean. He loved it.

“Dinner will be about another ten minutes. Want to pour the wine? You can hang your coat up behind the kitchen door there.” Dean had picked up a large knife and was slicing into a steaming loaf of bread, cutting thick slices.

Castiel shrugged out of his trench coat, shivered once at the sudden chill, that was quickly overtaken by the promised warmth. He picked up the bottle of wine, and studied the label. A rich Australian shiraz with promising notes tumbled into the two glasses.

He picked up each goblet, bringing one across to Dean.

Dean accepted it, but held it out in an unspoken cheers, clinking the crystal, before sipping. “Glad you are here, Cas,” he said when he lowered his glass.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel sipped and enjoyed the flavours of the wine, bright and bursting over his tongue.

“Here. Put this on the table.” Dean slid the platter of bread with its curls of butter on the side across to him.

It was all so…domestic and foreign to him, Castiel mused. There was music that played quietly in the background, and he watched Dean move around the kitchen, unconsciously  shifting and swaying to the music. He bumped the fridge closed with his hip, shook the dressing container with almost a shimmy and hummed as he swirled the dark, sweet smelling marinade over a small portion of beef on some lettuce. He glanced up, sucking a drop of the liquid off his thumb as he realised Castiel was watching him.

He paused. “What?”

“I like your ease, Dean,” Castiel said simply, leaning against the kitchen bench.

“My …’ease’?” Dean was bemused, setting the dressing container in the sink.

“You are content in your skin. You are confident. You seem relaxed, at ease. That’s what I meant.”

Dean stepped around the counter. Castiel straightened.

“You look serious. Have I offended?” Castiel asked, troubled.

“Cas…” Dean’s voice was soft, his expression enigmatic.

“Yes?”

Dean reached up and curved his hands over Castiel’s jaw. “You’re freaking awesome.”

He was awesome? No one ever told him he was awesome. Smart. Ruthless. Good looking. But never…awesome. Before he could do more than blink owlishly at Dean, his vision, his scent, his everything was filled with Dean. The taste of him too as those incredible lips slanted over his own. His thoughts scattered and he had to grab onto Dean’s shirt to stop from swaying.

An insistent beeping had Dean breaking the kiss. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Uh huh.” Castiel managed vague syllables, and his tongue flicked out to moisten his kiss swollen lips.

“I should…turn off the stove.” Dean rested his forehead on Castiel’s.

“You should.”

Castiel felt Dean’s chest as he took a few calming breaths.

“I’m gonna let go now.” Dean still hesitated.

The beeping continued.

Since Dean wasn’t going to, and frankly, dinner smelled too good to ruin, Castiel was the one who stepped back. Dean reluctantly let him go.

 

The meal was good.

Castiel had added his suit jacket to the trench coat behind the door. His tie had been tugged loose and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He leaned on the table with his forearms, a silly grin on his face as Dean chuckled.

The debris on the table was testament to the quality of the food. In Castiel’s opinion, it rivalled any restaurant he had been in. His Dean was an incredible chef.

His Dean.

Castiel was startled when he realised the turn his thoughts had taken. He stared down at his plate, suddenly the lightness of a moment before a mere memory.

“Cas? You okay?” Dean reached out and touched him on the arm.

“Yes. I think I am.” Castiel met Dean’s gaze. “I really think I am.”

Dean entwined his fingers with Castiel’s. “I’m glad.”

 

Later, Dean walked Castiel downstairs. The town car waited outside, engine humming. Dean unlocked the front door to let him out.

“Thank you, Dean. Thank you for cooking for me.”

“You’re welcome.” Dean leaned against the door frame, smiling. “Doesn’t happen often, huh?”

“No one has ever cooked for me. Not like that.”

“What? That’s impossible. You can’t be serious.”

“I haven’t said anything erroneous,” Castiel said stiffly. “I was brought up in a household where our meals where prepared by chefs. I have dated, and each time it has been to restaurants. I live alone, and I have a service that delivers meals. I can’t cook. In fact, I am uncertain anyone in our family knows how to.”

 

“Huh.” Dean was speechless. His mother had taught him to cook when he was ten. Just some basics. And he found he had a talent for it. Taking her recipes and giving them that little tweak needed to make a meal truly memorable. There had been disasters but as he got older, they were further and further apart. Knowing that Cas had never learned, never had anyone make a meal just for him, that stunned Dean. And when he studied Castiel’s stiff posture he knew there was pride there, and he wanted to wrap his arms around him.

“So thank you, Dean. It meant a lot.”

“I would do it again tomorrow night.” Dean stood straight, gaze fixed on Castiel.

“I cannot.” Castiel shook his head. “I wish I could. I would finish too late.”

“What time?”

“Ten. Maybe eleven.”

“Done.”

“No. Dean. It’s far too late. I know you arise early.”

Dean stepped forward. He raised a hand and smoothed his thumb across Castiel’s lower lip. “I want to see you. Tomorrow. I would wait up for you.”

“Really?”

Dean watched the hope bloom in Castiel’s face and his face ached for the lonely boy that Castiel must have been.

“Really.”

Dean kissed Castiel lightly. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“You will.”

Dean grinned. “Good.”

 

Castiel sat in the back of the town car, and watched as Dean waved farewell. Golden light spilled from the doorway, surrounding Dean in a nimbus of light. He couldn’t see those green eyes, but he could feel them.

He wished like hell he didn’t have to go home. But he had work to do. It made him cold just thinking about it, and the warmth that had settled around his heart was starting to dissipate.

But there was always tomorrow.

He wasn’t a fool.

He knew if he got up the courage to go to Dean’s tomorrow night, he wouldn’t be leaving until the morning.

And he found that he wanted that very badly.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean was reading when the message came through that Cas was downstairs. He winced at the time. Eleven. But it was Cas. He wanted…no…needed him here.

In grey striped sleep pants, a worn, dark grey t-shirt, he slipped downstairs and opened the door.

Castiel stood on the threshold, windblown and exhausted.

“Is it too late?” he rasped.

“God, no.” Dean pulled him inside, locked the door and with out another word, enfolded Castiel in an embrace.  Castiel all but collapsed against him. Though they were of similar heights, he seemed to curl into Dean’s embrace. Dean shivered at the ice of his skin, and was worried. “Let’s get you upstairs. You can grab a shower and get into something warm. Come on.”

Castiel pulled reluctantly back, but nodded, dark circles beneath his eyes.

 

Dean listened to the sound of his shower. He had handed Cas a towel and a change of clothes and told him to take his time.

After a bit the door of the bathroom opened and Castiel shuffled out, bare feet scuffing the floorboards. His hair was a little damp and hung in strands over his forehead.

“Feel better?”

“Much.” Castiel nods.

“Come on. Time for you to sleep.” Dean reached out, tracing his fingertips across Castiel’s brow. “You are almost out on your feet.”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel’s eyes were half closed. “I wished to spend time with you.”

“You are.” Dean pressed his lips to Castiel’s temple as he might have done to Charlie, an affectionate caress. “I’m just glad you are here.”

 

Dean tucked Castiel into one side of his bed, and slipped into the other, turning out the light. There was the faintest light from outside, and in the darkness he could see the pallor of Castiel’s skin, the delicacy of his eyelids, thin and veined. The plump curve of his lips, now slightly slack with sleep. The sharp blade of his nose, the arch of his cheekbone.

Dean traced that arch with his thumb. In his sleep, Castiel murmured, and shifted, turning his face away from the irritation to his rest. Dean smiled slightly, and settled himself down to rest, groaning at the thought of the alarm that would rouse him at five thirty.

 

When the alarm sounded loud in his ear, Dean woke, bemoaning the scant hours he had gotten. Castiel was a torturous bed mate. He curled up against Dean, selfish as a cat with space and body heat, stealing both, along with the blankets. Upon awakening, Dean had found Castiel curled around him, their legs entangled.

When he shifted, Castiel grumbled in protest.

“I have to get up.” Dean murmured softly.

“Too early.”

“Not for someone who opens his shop at six thirty.”

The blue eyes that met his were slumberous. “Can’t convince you to stay here a bit longer?”

Dean held that intense gaze, and reached up to run his fingers through Castiel’s messy thatch of hair. “You really are the sexiest person I have ever known. And getting out of bed is the last thing I want to do.”

Castiel raised up on one elbow, leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss over Dean’s lips. “Between your early starts and my late finishes…”

“We will find away. It’s Friday today. Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“I work every day.”

“But do you have to?” Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and held him close.

“I suppose..not,” Castiel said, frowning thoughtfully.

“Good.” Dean squirmed his way out to the edge of the bed, leaving Castiel sprawled in the centre. He grinned wickedly. “I want to make love to you, Cas. For many, many hours. Again and again. And not have to get up in the morning. I want to wake up with you, and as the sun rises high in the sky, I want to make you go out of your mind.”

Castiel stretched like a sleepy cat, a flush riding high on his cheek. “I think I could get behind a plan like that.”

Dean leaned down, kissed him fiercely, before regretfully heading to work.

 

Charlie eyed Dean with interest as Castiel exited the set of stairs from Dean’s apartment. He sent her a smirk, silently slid Castiel’s coffee across the counter as he passed. Castiel smiled at him, and headed out.

“So…” Charlie began.

“No. Uh uh.” Dean shook his head.

“Come on.”

“Nothing to tell.”

“Dirty stop out.”

“No. Really. We just slept. He got in so late and was ready to drop.”

Charlie frowned. “Really?”

“Really.”

She slumped, disappointed. “Damn.”

“But you are opening the shop tomorrow. Jo is going to come in and give you a hand.”

“Oh? Just where are you gonna be?” Charlie fisted her hands and propped them on her hips.

“Having a sleep in.” Dean grinned. “With Castiel.”

Charlie, ignoring waiting customers, approached Dean. She straightened his collar. She put both hands on his face. “Only for this would I sacrifice my sleep, Dean. Only for Castiel.”

Dean splayed a hand on his chest and bowed his head. “My love life appreciates your sacrifice, Your Majesty.”

She slapped him lightly with one hand. “Good boy. Proper deference. I like it.”

 

The call from Cas came earlier that night. Eight twenty seven ticked onto his clock as the message came through. Dean ran quickly downstairs, opened the door, yanked Castiel inside.

Their mouths clashed.

Every few paces, they stopped and devoured one another, the tension of the day barely relieved by the inadequate caresses they shared. Dean’s shirt ended up halfway up the stairs. Castiel’s was tossed over the couch. Dean’s pants were left in an inside out tangle in the hallway and Castiel was fumbling with the buttons of his trousers, hindered by Dean’s insistent kisses, demanding and taking relentlessly.

Castiel stripped trousers and briefs in one and the two men wrapped around each other, naked and aroused. Dean tugged Castiel to the bed and they crept onto it, focused more on the memorising of muscle and bone and skin. The taste flooded their tongues, and the texture of throat, of belly, of rigid cock became familiar.

Dean listened to the whimpers, the cries from Castiel’s lips. Castiel heard the drawn in breaths and the sound of Dean as he voiced his lust. They barely paused in proceedings, enough only so that Dean could slide a condom on his cock. Their breaths mingled as Dean slid into Castiel’s heat. The intense concentration on Castiel’s face was soothed by kisses and they began to move in a rhythm that was unfamiliar at first, but soon they found each other’s song, and at the culmination they cried aloud their passion.

Eventually they slept within the tangled sheets, sweat drying on flushed skin, Castiel with his lips against the freckled skin of his back, Dean content with arms surrounding him, drawing him close.

They slept with the secret of blossoming love in their hearts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been away all weekend, and I'm incredibly tired, but I wished to post this chapter I whipped up tonight. I hope it makes sense. I hope I don't read it again in the morning and go - "What the hell, Maya???"

When his brain scrambled from sleep, Dean reached out for the other side of the bed. Finding it empty he raised himself up on an elbow and scrubbed at his eye socket with the heel of a hand.

He yanked on a pair of lounge pants and yawning, he headed for the kitchen. He could hear the low murmur of a voice and followed it through to the tiny loungeroom. Castiel was pacing the tiny space, speaking vehemently into his phone.

Dean had never heard him use that tone of voice before. It was dark. It snarled with rage. And he wished he could walk away.

“I will not have this conversation again, Alistair. I have made my position abundantly clear and as the CEO I can, and will, over rule you.”

Dean’s gut coiled.

Castiel’s tone grew weary then. “If you attempt that, Alistair, I will see you bumped down to mail boy.”

He hung up and clutched the phone, pressing its hard edge into his brow, knuckles white. Dean made his presence known then.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Castiel glanced up, expression still harsh. Anger still sparked in his eyes, though when he saw Dean it banked into embers.

“Just work stuff.” Castiel shrugged, tossing his phone onto the low coffee table.

“Okay.” Dean nodded easily. “You need to go in?”

“Would you be angry if I said I did?”

“No.” Dean shifted to stand in front of Castiel, reaching for both his hands and linking them with his own. “I would be disappointed but I wouldn’t be angry.”

Castiel let out a low sigh. “You are an incredible man, Dean. I don’t think I deserve you.”

“No idea,” Dean gave a crooked smile. “But I sure as hell know that I’m grateful you gave me a chance.”

Castiel frowned in confusion. “I think it was you giving me a chance.”

“Babe…” Dean tugged Castiel closer. “There is no way you can win this argument. Want some coffee?”

“Yes.” Castiel’s shoulders, wrought rigid by the phone call, relaxed as he rested his forehead on Dean’s. “I’m sorry. I wish there was a way that work didn’t intrude.”

“Work will always intrude. Nature of the beast.” Dean pressed a kiss on Castiel’s forehead. “I’m going to make coffee, then fry up some bacon and we will sit on my couch and watch whatever movie strikes our fancy. Deal?”

“That sounds very pleasant.”

Dean stepped back, with obvious reluctance.

 

“I have never seen this.” Castiel observed in his reserved way as he leaned back against Dean’s arm where is lay over the back of the couch.

“What? Really? You have never seen Predator?”

“No.”

“Damn. You are up for a classic!”

 

Ten minutes in, Castiel was leaning back against Dean’s chest, with Dean’s arm wrapped warmly around him, resting lightly on his belly.

“This display of machismo is somewhat offputting.”

“Shh.” Dean muttered.

“Those muscles cannot be real.”

“Cas,” Dean protested. “Just watch.”

Several minutes later, and a protesting, “Oh come ON.” Castiel gestured at the screen. “That’s the most ridiculous – “

“Castiel Novak, I swear to god…” Dean grabbed Cas by the back of his neck, yanked him forward, kissing him hard.

The Predator took its next victim as Castiel stared dazedly at Dean. “What was that for?”

“Well, a, you were talking through a movie. That’s just…bad form. And b, I just really wanted to kiss you.”

Castiel studied Dean for a long while. “Hmmph.” He settled back into Dean’s arms and glared at the screen.

 

Arnie had just coated himself in mud when a knock sounded on the door to the apartment. Dean frowned.

“Who the hell …”

Castiel sat up and Dean stood, heading for the door. He yanked it open.

“What?” He studied Charlie’s expression and his annoyance deflated. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry to disrupt, Dean. But we have a problem. There is a guy downstairs, making a scene. Says he wants to speak to Castiel and won’t leave until he sees him.”

“Who is he?”

“He hasn’t given his name.” Charlie wrung her hands together. “What should I tell him?”

“Tell him nothing, Charlie. I will go down and speak to this man. I have a feeling I know who it is. I will get changed. It is unseemly I greet him in my pyjamas.” Castiel said quietly from behind Dean.

“I could just throw him out, Cas.” Dean turned and studied his troubled face.

 “And he would return. This will be simpler.” Castiel headed for, and closed, the door of the bedroom.

Dean reached out and gripped Charlie’s arm. “I’m sorry, honey. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s okay. Really. He was pretty rude.”

“I’m going to chuck on some jeans and come down too. He’s in my shop, causing a problem.” Dean scowled.

 

They headed downstairs, and as they entered the unusually muted café, Castiel sighed.

“Alistair. Your presence here is an irritation.”

Alistair was studying one of Dean’s pop culture mugs with an expression of distaste. “Your disappearance is an irritation, Castiel.”

“Take this into the back yard,” Dean said between gritted teeth and clenched jaw. “This is hardly the place.”

“My apologies, Dean,” Castiel said gravely and gestured toward the back room. “Alistair. Follow me please.”

Alistair’s nostrils flared, as though annoyed his posturing was being ignored and dismissed.

“My apologies, everyone,” Dean said loudly enough for Alistair to hear. “Sometimes manners are in short supply.”

“Don’t worry yourself, Dean,” Ms Edith said in her crackling voice. “Some folks just weren’t brought up right. Your boy will take care of him, just you see.”

Dean smiled gratefully at the old woman. “Thank you, ma’am. I would like to give everyone a free coffee for the disturbance.”

The half dozen people in the shop, all regulars, murmured. Ms Edith spoke up again. “Now that is a very sweet offer, Dean, but it is hardly your fault that jack ass stomped his way in here like the world owes him something. Now you had best go watch Mister Novak take that man down a peg or two. I reckon he has some fire in his belly that boy of yours.”

Dean flushed a little, took the two steps across to Ms Edith’s table, leaned down and kissed her on her powdery cheek.

“Oh, go on with you.” She patted his arm. “Sweet boy.”

Dean hurried out to his back garden, and into the clash of voices.

“I informed the office that I was away for the day, Alistair.” Castiel stood with his arms crossed, blue eyes flashing dangerously. He wore his black suit pants and a white t-shirt. His arms were crossed over his broad chest as he stared Alistair down.

The Armani suited businessman was scowling. “We are right in the middle of a deal, Castiel. You can’t just leave whenever you feel like it to go fuck a waiter.”

“You are on extraordinarily thin ice, Alistair.” Castiel’s voice was dangerously soft. “Have a care where your next step goes.”

Dean’s temper was roused, the heat of it clenching his belly. His hands white knuckled on the door frame. He wanted to interrupt, to spew invective at the asshole, but he had no idea who this guy was in the scheme of Novak Industries.

“Half a billion dollars, Castiel!” Alistair thundered. “You are putting half a billion dollars at risk for a…a….” He waved his hand at Dean and his café. “…a fling… with a man of all things!”

Castiel’s arms unfolded, he reached out and gripped Alistair either side of his perfectly pressed collar and yanked him forward until they were almost nose to nose.

“I am perfectly well aware of the deal, Alistair. I am the one who brokered it. I worked seven days a week, fourteen hours a day to ensure it was ready.” Despite the threat of his posture, his voice remained silky soft. “And it is ready, Alistair. As for my relationship with Dean, normally any question about my private life would be met with a refusal to answer, however since you have laid some charges at my feet that I have become very angry about, I will say merely this – the man you have maligned has become very dear to me. He is kind, thoughtful and intelligent. He runs a success business and I am beyond grateful that he has found a place in his life for me.” Castiel’s hands twisted, and Alistair visibly swallowed, his face grey. “If you say one more word at this time….brother…just one…I will fire you. Family or not, I will see you unemployed.” He released the coat, and smoothed his hands over the wrinkled fabric.

Alistair opened his mouth to speak.

Castiel held up one finger, his gaze steady on his sibling.

Alistair dropped his gaze, then broke away. He met Dean’s mocking gaze and shoved past him without a word.

“My god. Cas…” Dean said quietly.

“Not right now, Dean. Please. I need a moment.” Castiel pressed his fingers into his eyesockets.

Dean lapsed into silence, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans. And he waited. After a few moments, Castiel dropped his hand and his gaze met Dean’s and held.

“I apologise for Alistair. His words were unacceptable and his presence here was an embarrassment for us all.”

“Cas, stop.” Dean took a step forward.

“No.” Castiel shook his head. “I’m afraid that my presence in your life will continue to be problematic. Alistair is not the most protective of my brothers.”

Dean hesitated. “Exactly how many brothers do you have.”

“Five. Michael, Luc, Balthazar, Gabe and Alistair.”

“Five?” Dean felt a little faint.

“Yes. We make up Novak Industries.”

“Growing up must have been a bitch.”

“Indeed.” Castiel smiled wryly. “I am the youngest.”

“How did you end up as CEO?”

“I was the one who could make all of my brothers agree. The others are all headstrong, opinionated  - talented, yes, and driven – but they needed someone who could harness their abilities. That person was me.” Castiel scuffed the toe of his shoe over the stone floor. “And I was single-minded in that task until just recently.”

“Until you met me…” Dean chewed on his lower lip. “I see.”

Castiel approached Dean then. He raised his hands and placed them on Dean’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “Yes. Until I met you.” He leaned forward and kissed Dean. He drew back. “You made me question my life.”

Dean’s hands went to Castiel’s waist and splayed there, warm and steady. “That is a good thing, I hope?”

Castiel smiled. “Very good.” He kissed Dean again. “Now. I vote we beg some of your excellent coffee from Charlie, go back upstairs and watch the end of that terrible movie.”

“It’s a classic, Cas!”

“Casablanca is a classic.”

They headed indoors, still arguing.

 

And Dean knew he was in love.

Just like that.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean took Castiel to meet Sam the following Sunday. Castiel fidgeted on the passenger side of the car, his fingers linked, the knuckles white. He stared out of the side window, every so often biting his lower lip.

Dean was focused on the road, sparing a glance once in a while.

“You okay?” he asked finally.

Castiel nodded. “Sure. Yeah.” A pause. “No.”

“Sammy’s a good guy, y’know.”

“I’m sure he is.”

He could feel Castiel’s bright gaze on him, and risked a sideways look. “Really. He wants to meet you.”

“Why?”

Dean smiled at the flat tone. “Because he has figured out you are important to me.”

“And he has no issues with you having a boyfriend?”

“Nope.” Dean frowned. “I take it your brothers have issues with me?”

“Yes.” Castiel took a breath. “Well, Balthazar and Gabe don’t give a damn that I am gay, but my other siblings have spoken to me on occasion about the image it presents to the stockholders. “

Dean was rendered speechless, his hands tightened on the wheel.

Castiel continued, unaware of Dean’s rousing anger. “I wish people didn’t give a damn who I fall in love with, but it would seem the majority of our stockholders are the sort who do.” He sighed.

Dean kept his voice steady, though it was a struggle. “I see. No wonder Alistair was so angry that your apparent choice was a male waiter. At the very least you could have selected someone from your own social circle.”

“Yes.” Castiel pressed his fingertips into his brow. “While it does not reflect my feelings on the matter, that is the way Alistair would think.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.” Dean squinted at the harsh grit of pain in his chest at Castiel’s words. He swallowed down the hurt. “I seem to have complicated your life.”

“No. I complicated my life.” Castiel propped his chin on his hand, his elbow in the open window and he stared back out of it.

“Maybe it is a bad idea for you to meet Sammy,” Dean said flatly.

He felt rather than saw Castiel look at him. “Why?”

“A relationship shouldn’t cause this much friction with family, Cas. I don’t care if they don’t like me because I’m an asshole or whatever, but to not like me because I’m a guy? That’s not something you can brush aside. And yeah, your brothers are probably right.” Dean shrugged carelessly. “Your board and stockholders find out that their CEO bangs a guy every night? You can pretty much guarantee fallout.”

“Dean…”

“It’s fine, Cas. I get it.” Dean’s jaw clenched.

“I wished to be honest with you about my family.” He toyed with one of the buttons on his coat. “I am sorry it made you angry. I, however, do not wish to stop seeing you, and I very much want to meet Sam because he is important to you.”

“How is this gonna work though?”

“I don’t know. I have not been in these precise circumstances before.”

“What? Never introduced a guy to your family before?”

“No. No one has ever been important enough.”

“Damn it, Cas.” Dean deflated.

“Was that the wrong thing to say?”

Dean sighed and held his hand out toward Cas, who took it. “No. It was the right thing.”

“Are you still angry?”

“At you? No.” Dean drew back Castiel’s hand and brushed a kiss over the knuckles. “At the rest of it? Little bit.”

“Don’t give up on me just yet, Dean. I will sort it out.”

Dean gave a faint grin. “Only just found you, Cas. Don’t plan to give up anytime soon.”

 

Later on, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, Castiel reflected on the dinner. Dean breathed in a slow steady symphony that was like white noise to his busy brain. He lay on his side with his back to Castiel, beneath a pile of quilts that Sam had tossed on the bed in a sop to encroaching winter. They decided stay the night when the hour grew too late, Dean’s eyes drooping tiredly as he had been awake since four. Without work in the morning for him, he did not need to rise at his usual time, though Castiel needed to be at work by nine.

Castiel thoughts turned to Sam and the eager puppylike joy he had in meeting Castiel. There was not much physical resemblance between the brothers, though both were undeniably good looking. Sam towered over Dean and had lifted him off his feet with barely a grunt when he hugged his greeting.

His own greeting had been vaguely terrifying. At first his hand was engulfed in a huge paw; then, seeming to have second thoughts, Sam just wrapped him up in a hug of greeting. His brothers didn’t …hug. His parents didn’t hug. He expected hugs from Dean – that was different, but his life didn’t involve the casual affectionate touching that seemed second nature to Sam and Dean.

Setting him down, Sam had returned to the kitchen, sliding a beer each across the benchtop. Castiel tried the brew and found it bitter. He drank it to be polite. Dinner was simple fare of roast beef and vegetables. Apple pie for dessert.

He was questioned by Sam, and immediately recognised the sharp mind that went on behind those big hazel eyes.

His studies at law school were going well, and he was seeing a girl in his class called Ruby. His ears went red when Dean teased him about her. Though he was quick to retaliate.

Castiel turned his head to study the back of Dean’s. His light brown hair with it’s trendy cut, the smooth nape of his neck that he seemed to enjoy being touched and kissed, the freckles that touched his shoulders.

Castiel drew closer, and under the quilts he wrapped his arm around Dean’s chest. Dean murmured a little in sleep. Castiel stilled, but Dean didn’t wake. And finally he thought about his family. How much was he risking by being with Dean? Everything, it would seem. Alistair’s words had been unkind, but they held the faint note of truth.

“You okay?” Dean’s voice was sleep fuzzed, his head turning a little on the pillow.

Castiel kissed the back of his neck, and curved his body around Dean’s. “Just fine.”

“Mmrmm.”

He couldn’t let his family define his relationship with this man.

He was in love with him.

Just like that.

 

Early the next morning, Dean sleepily kissed Castiel farewell at the entry to his apartment building, then headed for home. He opened the shop and after a hit of espresso, started his day.

He sent Castiel a text later on, thinking nothing of it when it went unanswered.

 

It wasn’t until Castiel hadn’t replied for the rest of the day, then failed to show for his customary coffee the next morning that Dean started to worry.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean felt like an idiot standing in the foyer of Novak Industries. It was well out of his league, Alistair hadn’t been wrong about that. The soaring chamber of glass and chrome made him uneasy. He stood with his hands in his jean pockets while the guy on reception called through.

“Hi there.”

Dean turned around. A man about his age, and half a foot shorter, studied him with thoughtful dark brown eyes. He wore an impeccable suit as armour and a bright smile as a weapon.

“Hello,” Dean replied cautiously.

The guy checked out Dean’s battered jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket. “Who are you here to see?”

“Cas … Castiel Novak.”

“He’s a busy guy.”

“I’m aware.”

“And you would be…?”

“Dean Winchester.” Dean narrowed his eyes. “Which of the brothers are you?”

“Perceptive, Mister Winchester.” The bright flash of smile. “I’m Gabe. The adorable rogue.”

“Adorable isn’t the word I would use.”

The only response was a lift of a brow. “My feelings are hurt. Why this sudden dislike of the Novak name?”

“You and your brothers have no right to make Cas feel like he was betraying everything he has worked for, including your own damn family for wanting to be with me,” Dean dropped his voice to a low growl.

Gabe Novak frowned, and listened. “Do tell.”

“When one of you comes to my place of business and accuses Cas of slumming it in front of a bunch of strangers, well that’s just a dick move. I might not be worth half your little brother is, but I see how hard he works. I see the weight he bears on his shoulders – and it’s just messed up if you would all make him feel like hell because he is dating me, not a suitable babe from your own social circle.”

“Hold up, hold up…” Gabe put up his hands to fend off the verbal sallies.

“Just give him a message for me, if you can bring yourself to do it….” Dean snarled. “Tell him that if he wants to break it off, have the balls to do it to my face instead of refusing to answer my calls.” He turned and his bow legged stride looked better suited to a cattle ranch in Texas than an inner city high rise office building.

Gabe appreciated the view. He headed for the receptionist.

“Tell Cassie’s secretary I’m on my way up.”

“Sir, he is in a meeting…”

“Don’t sweat it.”

 

Gabe sat down in the chair opposite Castiel and really studied his little brother for the first time in weeks. He realised, aside from the profound expression of sadness around those baby blues, Cassie was looking good. He had lost some of his pallor, he had fewer lines around his eyes.

“So I met your boyfriend.” Gabe opened negotiations. He was amused to see his first offer struck when those blue eyes sharpened fractionally and the chin tilted up.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Dean. He’s your boyfriend right?” Gabe gestured with a thumb. “He was downstairs looking for you, but didn’t get past the guard dogs.”

“I have been in back to back meetings for this buyout for the past two days. You know that, Gabe,” Castiel said tiredly.

“Yup. One of those was with Alistair and the other was with Michael. I can only imagine what they talked to you about.” Gabe linked his fingers and rested them on his belly. “Any of it to do with why you haven’t taken thirty seconds to reassure that gorgeous hunk of man that you still think is the bees knees?”

Castiel gritted his teeth and remained silent.

Gabe took that as assent and leaned forward. “You, baby brother, are an idiot.”

“Screw you, assbutt.”

“Such a mouth!” Gabe was mock-offended. “Appalling. Mother would be horrified.”

Castiel ignored him. “You don’t know anything about the situation.”

“Don’t I?” Gabe looked at him wryly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Michael as the eldest, and Alistair as the asshole, came into this office and ranted and raved about appearances and bottom lines. And like the dutiful brother you have always been, you took on board their advice and put some distance between yourself and Winchester, yes?”

Castiel thrust his fingers into the untidy mop of his hair. “I just needed them to shut up so I could think. I haven’t had time to think.”

“I’m going to toss my two cents in.”

“I was so hoping you would.” Castiel groaned.

“Fuck both of them and their narrow minded, archaic views that could do with a boot into the 21st century. No one gives a goddamn in this company that you are gay, Cas. You are the best fucking thing that happened to us. We were a mess before you dragged our arrogant asses kicking and screaming into line and they know it. But we won’t fall apart if you decide not to spend twenty hours a day here. Hell, do the right thing by you, and Dean, if you still want him, and delegate more to your assistants so you can get your ass out of here at a reasonable hour.”

Gabe enjoyed the way Castiel’s mouth had dropped open in shock.

“Catching flies, Cassie.”

“Gabe…I…”

“Cas, I love you. You know that. But neither Michael or Alistair run this company. You do. Tell them to suck it up, blow it out their ass…whatever you feel like. If I had known they were being such massive assholes to you, I would have said something.”

“You really don’t care if I choose Dean?”

“I don’t care as long as you are happy, Cas. Me and Balty and Luc feel the same way. We always did.”

“I screwed up.” Castiel went pale.

“So I’m going to deliver the message that Dean gave me.”  
Castiel waited, pale.

“I quote: ‘If and when he wants to stop being a coward, get him to call’.”

“He didn’t say that,” Castiel said flatly.

“No. I’m paraphrasing. But he did call you a coward.”

Castiel groaned and thunked his forehead down to his hands. “Hell.”

“Figure out what you want before you go to see him, Cas. I got this gut feeling he’s a good guy, even though he tarred me with the same brush as our two older siblings. I would take it as a personal favour if you make him think a little better of me.”

“He is a good guy. A really good guy.”

“Well then, don’t let him think you are a dick.”

“Gabe…”

“Calling it like I see it.”

Castiel checked his watch and scowled. “Too early to leave.”

“I will hold off the ravening hordes.” Gabe stood, assuming a heroic pose.

Castiel looked up, amusement twitching the corner of his mouth. “My hero.”

Gabe gave him a severe look. “Don’t you forget it.”

Castiel stood, scooted around his desk and stood in front of Gabe. After the briefest of pauses, he gripped Gabe’s shoulders and yanked him forward, giving him a hug that Sam would have been proud of.

“Thank you, Gabe,” he murmured.

After a surprised hesitation, Gabe folded his arms around his taller sibling and held tight. He let go after Castiel. Somehow he thought it was necessary. Odd, but necessary.

“I have to go…” Castiel looked around a little wildly.

Gabe flapped him out like a mother hen with a chicken. “Go, go. He will be back at his adorable little café by now.”

“His café is-“ Castiel brought himself up short when he saw Gabe’s expression. He scowled. “Shut up.”

“Just testing.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All finished, thank you all for the lovely feedback. 
> 
> This last bit was written with a migraine so I'm sorry if it doesn't quite flow.

Dean sat out in his little garden. The English style arrangement meant that herbs tumbled with flowers, tumbled with fruits. And he used most of them in his cooking. But for now, he was staring blindly at the riotous display, lost in his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

The voice was an interruption to the depths of his sad reverie. He jerked around on the little benchseat, hand clutching the back in sudden whiteknuckle awareness. “Cas?”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel stood, his hands clutched tightly.

Dean scrambled to standing. “Okay.” Was Cas about to say thanks but no thanks? “What about?”

“For not having the courtesy to speak to you these past couple of days.” Castiel’s gaze was cast down.

Dean’s heart squeezed painfully. He pressed a hand to his gut to still the churning. “Hey, it’s alright. I get it. We had fun, y’know?”

Castiel’s head flew up and he met Dean’s gaze, eyes wide with shock. “No. Wait. That’s not what I meant. I don’t want this…us…to finish.”

Dean stilled. “What did you mean, Cas?”

Castiel took a few hurried paces forward, his hands clenched. “I was an idiot. I like you, Dean. Falling headlong into way more, but you were right, family can be very influential, and with my two eldest brothers hammering at me, it was all I heard. I was always the good brother, never rock the boat, always listening and never changing my routine. I think I surprised them when they found out about you. You had me changing my routine and that shocked them.”

Dean’s jaw flexed, his hands tucked into his pockets. “If this continues, Cas, a lot more than your routine might change.”

“I’m good with that.” Castiel held out both of his hands in supplication, an earnest expression on his face. “I’m good with all of it. I spent the past two days miserable, only to find out that it was because the bit that was missing from my happiness was you.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asked hesitantly. placing both his hands in Castiel’s.

“Absolutely.”

“And if your brothers…”

“They can go blow it out their collective asses,” Castiel said flatly.

Dean nearly choked on his laughter.

 

**EPILOGUE**

Castiel fidgeted with his tie. Gabriel stepped in from his periphery and sighed.

“You were always hopeless at ties, Cassie.” He fixed the crooked knot with deft fingers.

“My fingers won’t work properly,” Castiel complained.

“Nerves.”

“Is Dean here?”

“Yep. According to Sammy-boy he has been pacing up a storm.”

Castiel gave a crooked smile.

“You ready, baby brother?” Gabe patted him on the back.

“Yes … and no.” Castiel ran his finger around his tight collar. “All those people.”

Gabe shrugged. “Suck it up, buttercup. Once the Novak clan was on board with the whole wedding thing, you didn’t have a chance.”

“Neither of us wanted this fuss…”

Gabe patted Castiel on the cheek. “Once again: tough. You have a family who love you – yes, even Michael and Alistair. Once they figured Dean-o was going nowhere, they had to knuckle under. He does look good in that suit though.”

Castiel hesitated. “Really?”

“Armani suits him.”

Castiel cleared his throat, his normally deep voice a little hoarse. “I bet.”

A tap of knuckles sounded on the door. “Everything is ready.”

“That’s Charlie,” Castiel tugged his collar again as Gabe opened the door.

Charlie, in a silky dark brown beaded dress, sashayed into the room. She beamed at Castiel. The two had become fast friends in the past couple of years. “You look so handsome.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Bit twitchy but you can hardly notice.”

“My hands won’t stop shaking,” Castiel complained.

Charlie gripped them fiercely. “Then lets go get you married.”

 

Dean stood with Sam and Charlie. Castiel with Gabe and Balthazar. The ceremony was short and sweet, the vows heartfelt and when they were declared married the crowd applauded as Dean cupped Castiel’s face and kissed him with all the love in his heart.

They broke apart, stared at each other, foreheads touching.

“Hi,” Dean said with a faint smile.

“Hello.” Castiel replied in his serious way, before he broke into a wide smile.

Dean linked his fingers with Castiel’s. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Should we go be social?”

“Must we?” Castiel sighed.

“We must.”

“Okay.”

As one, they turned, waved at their guests and started down the aisle to the rest of their lives.


End file.
